Thursday, 17 September 2009

Leaving Avalon

Coiling, sweeping mists adrift
The plains of Avalon.
Souls bereft, left wandering,
They seek their King,

Lunar nights, pale reflection.
Lady of the Lake.
Fingers long – they call to you.
You shift your shape.

Merlinesque, the wise ones bow
In reverential awe.
Great Mother, the Creatrice
Sends love yet fear
To all.

This land of apples, damsels sweet
Behind the veil protect.
In sacrifice, fair virgins guard
The White Priestess

Your horses race o’er flooded ground.
Your ghosts run with you still.
As this earth calls you forth again
You incarnate
At will.

‘Cross the waters with the saviours,
Recommence the fight.
Float the coracle to Albion.
Save her from
Her plight.

Tall, beatific protectors,
Countenance divine.
Honoured here, we pledge we will not
Dismiss you
This time.

Reunited, erstwhile Arthur,
Maiden, mother, crone.
Glass tower broken, sword of power
Released, not set
In stone.
(c) Michele Ranger August 2009

No comments:

Post a Comment